Ason Teva - Breathing Asbestos (2026, Invisible Animals)
IA222
Sade Olutola

Product Placement
Show & Tell
trying on a metaphor
d e v o n
Peter Solarz

Andulka

blake kathryn
tumblr dot com

shark vs the universe
KIROKAZE

@theartofmadeline

No title available
Xuebing Du
cherry valley forever
Mike Driver
RMH

PR's Tumblrdome
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

pixel skylines

seen from Singapore

seen from Singapore

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom

seen from China

seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
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@pumiquxt
Ason Teva - Breathing Asbestos (2026, Invisible Animals)
IA222
🎶 melting roses in the sun 🎶
octopus vulgaris ideological blindness slipper of denial
i never had a mama
‘Venus of Vestoniche’, the oldest known ceramic, from 25 km south of Brno, Czech Republic (Pavlovian, ∼ 27 000 BP)
medical bankruptcy marginally sentient fungus survive the omnicide
a noisy appropriation of The Beatle's, "Blackbird"
Horsey McHorse Wraith
In the Ghost Mist
I am always starting again but never from the same place twice. I have too many prologues. Excuses? No, not those. I write the words without memory. The casting changes, but the story never does. This is false.
The ghost-mist memories have become digital, indexed, and archived. What used to be a face without a name (or was it the other way around?) has become both. I web-searched for my rapists’ names. Two names with four faces.
One of them is dead; the other is said to have survived. My assault? Did they survive it? Have I been haunting them?
What a choice to be made! Would I allow myself to linger these many years, whispering encrypted secrets to their nightmares? Appear as a retinal smudge every time they smelled wet straw, petrified manure, and panic? Or would it be better to have mind-wiped me from them completely? I died to myself; could I have died to them? Would I have, had I been given the choice? Any choice?
I have often wondered if I'm already dead and if these words were dreamt, but I realize now that I'm not the ghost; he is. The one they remember. He was dead to them, probably from before and certainly afterward. I may have chosen to be forgotten, but I would have regretted it. He was dead to me, too. Not his fault. Not mine.
My own wiping was superficial. Just gone enough to
study by @faintpress - multi-panel vispo / a lune found in torn pages from an old novel
seconds wrapped into simple tricks time would go without
A woman moving to another village takes with her the bones of her dead son, decorated with marigolds, the native mourning flower, Balkan Front, June 1916.
the boy in the bubble
T̷H̷E̷ ̷W̸Ü̵M̶M̶E̶ ̶C̷O̷N̸S̸U̵M̸P̴T̵I̴O̷N̸
0̸0̷:̴0̴0̵ [̵V̴O̷L̸T̴A̴G̶E̵ ̸H̷E̴M̷O̷R̵R̶H̶A̷G̵E̶]̵ X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷X̷ A sterile schoolhouse, Wümme’s gray light, A tape loop screams, then vanishes in night. The speaker cones are coughing blood. A serrated frequency hacks at the air— Z̵A̵P̵. G̶R̶I̷N̷D̷. S̸H̷R̸E̸D̶. It’s the sound of a machine, cold and severe, The sound of yourself, trapped listening here.
[̶M̸O̴T̴O̵R̵I̶K̵ ̶S̶I̴N̵G̸U̸L̵A̶R̷I̸T̵Y̵]̶ ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Then—the KICK. The SNARE. A metronome for a heart made of chrome. THUD. WHACK. THUD. WHACK. The fuzz is no longer a sound; it is a solid wall. DUM-tak-DUM-tak-DUM-tak-DUM-tak. The white lines become a solid sheet of light. W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸W̸ A driving, monotonous, hypnotic drone. The bass creeps in, a tectonic shudder, Without a rudder, without a rudder.
[̷T̶H̵E̴ ̸B̵R̴E̶A̴K̴I̴N̸G̸ ̴P̵O̷I̶N̸T̵]̷ Strange, chirping synth birds, a distant, ironic bleep, A somnambulist, surreal, waking sleep. Under a white, white, white, white, German sky. B̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷R̷ It is 1973. It is 3073. The fuzz is a sun. It is blinding. The gearteeth grind the groove to a halt, A shattered, sudden, brilliant vault.
[̷C̸R̵A̸C̵K̷]̵
The glass gives way. The magnets snap. [ ] It was all a pain, a perfect, sudden end.
cross on the moon conservative lolcows 'Cat, I've farted'
So i just noticed that embedded SoundCloud tracks are only a :29 second preview now. This is not something controlled on the Tumblr side— this is an update to the SC api with how it streams through embedded players
I have a gut feeling this change was not about driving listeners to SC so the can get ad revenue (though driving traffic is always a goal)
I bet this change coincided with their new payout structure. 30 seconds is usually the threshold for counting as a Play, so keeping casual listens to under 30 could dramatically decrease payouts to artists while still being able to count it as a stream
I think this will cost more in lost engagement than saved in actually paying artists
Julia Soboleva, “No. 63”
ghostlypetal